10 July 2024

A terrible coffee in a café with Ralph McTell followed by Leo Sayer in one ear, a busking bagpiper in the street in the other. Memories are made of this.

A sudden increase in the volume of pedestrians indicates another cruise ship has docked. I battle my way through the crowds and meet Vicky at the hostel. It’s a relief to put my shopping and luggage in her van.

Vicky generously treats me to breakfast at her favourite vegan café. She is very likable and easy-going and, I can already see, a little chaotic. We are unpursued by cruisers. 

She has been on Egilsay for a couple of years, researching the wader population and ways of sustaining the at-risk yellow-bee population. Official agri-environmental schemes aren’t the way, in Vicky’s view, as they are about bringing in £££ rather than sustaining nature. I comment on my pleasure in the verges I saw yesterday, thick with clover, vetch, umbles, honeysuckle, roses. But Vicky refers to Mainland Orkney as “an industrial desert“. Egilsay, she says, is how Orkney was a generation ago; one big wildflower meadow. I can’t wait.

While Vicky catches up with email I pay a visit to the Orkney museum. When I read that the Ring of Brodgar is contemporaneous with Avebury I remember the feeling of “recognition” while there yesterday. It is I ncredible to think of remote Orkney as a cultural hub with an influence extending to building down south. 

St Magnus Cathedral is overwhelmed with cruisers and has the atmosphere of a marketplace. I withdraw to the town library and watch a bit of Wimbledon on my phone (!). Mid afternoon I link up with Vicky for the crossing to Egilsay. Low cloud and drizzle wipe out the view. But I relish the ticket-price reduction, now I am over the age-63 threshold!

Vicky’s place is a cultural shock: the front living room a workspace with tools and equipment scattered over the sofa and a large sheet of plywood leaning against the window. A cheerful chaos continues throughout the house. I am beginning to feel rather silly with my three carrier bags of food. There is no way anything more can be squeezed into the fridge. 

Vicky insists that 85% of the stuff in the house is the landlord’s (the RSPB rent from an individual currently based in California – a September visit may crystallise a decision about whether or not this arrangement continues). Vicky apologises for the absence of toilet seat, the lack of hot water (plumber booked) and the non-functioning white goods dotted around the house. I am introduced to Stanley the cat. Thankfully, Vicky doesn’t ask if I am a cat lover. Stanley apparently doesn’t like strangers and keeps her (yes) distance underneath a bed.

I settle in while Vicky has a nap. The hours pass, and Vicky sleeps on. Should I prepare supper? Eating down my non-refrigerated perishables would be the smart way forward. As I start cooking Vicky appears. We sort the mountains of rubbish and a system is revealed. Much will be repurposed in the horticulture project. Vicky promises me that she will take away the drinks-bottles mountain before she leaves. But her pre-departure to-do list is becoming unrealistic. I tamp down my anxiety in a place so different from my own.

The rain continues and I don’t yet feel inspired to explore. Not that there is time – England are playing in the UEFA semi-final. And we will watch it on the big screen in the community hall adjacent to the house, along with Claire and Paul, the official RSPB volunteers living nearby. I think it is a relief to both Vicky and me that, in her absence, I have the option of hooking up with this very friendly and knowledgeable couple. (Paul has worked on many RSPB reserves.)

Vicky is beside herself with excitement. The stress of watching a tense game is considerably heightened by her interjections and reactions. A bottle of Pinot Grigio is whooshed down between the two of us. When Olly Watkins scores, late in the second half, ensuring England has a place in the final there is much rejoicing: “The Dutch are on their knees” she crows, triumphant. Vicky’s euphoric singing continues some time after her  return.